


By Her Side

by Vickiemoseley



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Gen, Hurt Fox Mulder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 18:08:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16331003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vickiemoseley/pseuds/Vickiemoseley
Summary: Bill Scully gets a call from his mother to go to his





	By Her Side

**Author's Note:**

> I fully intend to hear from some 'differing opinions'

Title: By Her Side  
Author: Vickie Moseley  
Summary: Bill Scully gets a call from his mother to go to his  
sister's side. But not for a reason he approves of.  
Rating: R for rough language (he's a sailor for Pete's sake!)  
Category: V, MSR (implied) Scully (Bill and Dana) angst, Mulder  
torture  
Spoilers: Tons. Mostly up to the movie, so all of seasons 1 - 5.  
Disclaimer: The characters depicted within belong wholy and  
completely to somebody else (namely 10-13 Productions). This  
falls somewhere under 'coveting thy neighbor's fictional persona'  
but I lust after them with my mind, not my pocketbook. No  
copyright infringement intended.  
Author's note: I fully intend to hear from some 'differing opinions'  
on this one, but I had to see if I could paint Bill Scully as something  
other than the embodiment of evil. In short, I tried to walk in his  
shoes for a day. This is the result. There may be another one or  
two like it.  
Comments to me: vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com

 

By Her Side  
by Vickie Moseley  
vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com

"Bill, it's Mom."

I'm 38 years old and she still feels the need to identify herself to me  
over the phone. She's been doing it since I left for college. Like I  
could ever forget the sound of my mother's voice. But some things  
never change.

"Yeah, Mom, how are you? Isn't our turn to call?" Tara and Mom  
worked out an arrangement not long after the wedding. We'd call  
every two weeks, but Mom knew how much money comes into a  
sailor's household, so she quickly insisted that we take turns.  
Every two weeks, like clock work on Sunday night we'd call or  
we'd be home to take her call. But then it hit me, it's Wednesday.  
Something's wrong. "Mom, what's the matter?"

"Oh, Billy." OK, now I'm getting worried. Mom only calls me  
Billy when she's really upset and by the sound of her voice, she's  
definitely upset. I think she might even be crying.

"Mom, what's wrong? You're scaring me here. Is it Dana?  
Charlie? You? What's going on?" I don't want to play the bully,  
but there's this cold fist of dread in my stomach that I can't shake.  
She's sounds almost like she did when she called me to tell me  
about Missy. And before that when she told me about Dad. And  
with Dana's line of work -

"It's about Dana, yes, but not what you think. I just got off the  
phone with her. She and Fox have been out in San Diego for a few  
days on a case. Apparently there was shooting. Fox . . ." Mom is  
crying. I can hear it in her voice. She's stopping to catch her  
breath. My God, what the hell is going on?

"Mom?"

"Fox s-s-s-stepped in front of the gunman. He was going to shoot  
D-D-Dana. Fox was hit. Oh, Billy, she was so upset. She was  
crying so hard I could barely make out the words."

Dana crying? Over the phone and crying? Impossible! Never! It  
could not, would not ever happen! I can't remember the last time I  
saw my sister cry. Not at Dad's funeral, not at Missy's. Oh sure,  
damp eyes, a touch of the tissue. But crying so hard that she  
couldn't be understood? No, it didn't happen like that, Mom is just  
exaggerating.

"Mom, what do you want me to do?" At that moment, I knew  
what was coming. Mom was calling me to go over to sit with her.  
But it hit me, suddenly. Dana has been in San Diego, possibly for a  
'few days', and she's not called _once_? She was here, with that  
son of a bitch . . . and she didn't think to call me? For that matter,  
she calls Mom all the way across country instead of me here in the  
same city when something bad happens. When the hell did I  
become the pariah of the family? "Do you want me to go to her?  
Where is she?"

"Now, Billy. Listen to me. I know what you think of Fox. I know  
you blame him for all sorts of things that he never had anything to  
do with. But there is a reason Dana didn't call you and that is it.  
She's scared, but she doesn't want to deal with your anger right  
now, especially if it's directed at him. She's at Mission Hospital, I  
know you can find her. But if you go over, I want you to keep  
your opinions _to yourself_! If you can't respect Fox Mulder as  
another human being, at least respect him for what he means to  
your sister. I will not have you going over there -"

"Mom," I finally cut into her tirade. "Mom, give me some credit,  
please! I won't put my foot in my mouth. I'll be there for her, I  
don't give a shit about this Mulder character. But I don't want my  
baby sister sitting in some cold and impersonal hospital all by  
herself."

"I know you don't care about Fox, William, but do all of us a favor  
and keep that to yourself. And keep your mouth shut, if you can't  
think of anything else good to offer." I recognize that tone. It's  
Mom's 'I'll kick your butt from here to next Wednesday if you  
don't do as I'm telling you' tone of voice. It always sent shivers  
down my spine and still does.

"I'll be good, Mom. I promise. Now, I better get over there."

"Just give her all my love, please, Billy. And Fox, too, if you can  
deliver the message. Oh, and a kiss for Tara and Matty." I have to  
sit through the entire litany before she finally lets me go.

"I will, Mom, I will. I'll call later, if there's any news."

"I'm trusting you, Billy. I love you."

Shit, now I'm going to start crying on the phone. "I love you, too,  
Mom." I hang up and turn to find Tara giving me a perplexed look.

"Was that Mom? Why didn't you let me say hello? And Matty  
could have said a few words to her, or at least babbled in her ear."  
Before she's through, Tara is staring at me. "Bill, what's the  
matter?"

I'm already looking for my keys and my jacket. "I have to get over  
to Mission Hospital. Mulder got himself shot and Dana's over  
there with him. Mom doesn't want her to be alone."

"Oh, God, it's not bad, is it?" Tara's handing me the keys and my  
jacket and my wallet, too. I'm heading for the door.

"How good could it be if Mom's sending me over there?" I throw  
over my shoulder and before she can answer, I'm in the car and  
pulling out of the driveway.

For the record, I'm not a bad guy. I'm a likable guy, as a matter of  
fact. I have the respect of the men below me and the officers I  
serve under. Tara was not the first woman to fall in love with me,  
but she is by far the best. And I have plenty of guys I can call up on  
a moment's notice for a game of golf or a Sunday afternoon of  
football or for a quick poker game. So I'm not known for my  
animosity.

Then came Mulder. Hell, why can't the asshole just let people call  
him by his first name? I mean, what's this 'Mulder' shit? I took a  
little psych in college. I recognize an attempt to distance oneself  
from others. He's pushing people away with that shit. Well, I  
don't have time for that bullshit.

I didn't set out to hate Fox Mulder. No, that came with time. Like  
the time Dad died. I turned around at the luncheon after the  
funeral, and Dana had disappeared. I looked for her among the  
mourners, mostly brass and friends that Mom and Dad had picked  
up over time, but I couldn't find my little sister. So, I found my  
wife and asked her. "She had to go to work." I about flipped out!  
Work! Her father had just died, for Christ's sakes, and she had to  
go to work?! I'm in the service, I _know_ how much leave time  
you're allowed for funerals, and it's longer than four fucking hours!

I lost it. I found Charlie and we were going to fly down to North  
Carolina or South Carolina or where ever the hell he'd dragged her  
off to, and kick his sorry ass all the way back to DC! Mom didn't  
need that shit. Mom needed us there, all of us. Missy had already  
blown it off, couldn't get a flight, bunch of shit. Now, Dana, the  
'reasonable one' takes a powder right after the services.

Because of him. Because of Mulder.

We were almost out the door when Tara knocked some sense into  
us. Well, a couple of days later and the case was over, they caught  
the guy, or rather, Dana caught the guy, and she _still_ didn't come  
home. "Mulder got shot." Like that was supposed to explain why  
she wasn't home, comforting her grieving mother. Like that was  
some sort of absolution for leaving her father's graveside.

I was still on leave when she finally got home. I went over to her  
apartment, I was going to give her a piece of my mind. It was after  
midnight, and I knew her flight had arrived much earlier. She'd  
been at 'his' apartment, 'settling him in'.

We had a fight. Our first over that sorry son of a bitch. I told her  
what I thought about her running out at the funeral, she told me to  
mind my own business. I told her she _was_ my business and she  
let me have it with both barrels. Lit into me like Hell's Fury  
Scorned. And then, in the middle of our fight, or so I thought, she  
informed me that she was just there to 'pick up a few things'  
because she was spending the night at her partner's.

I've only 'seen red' a couple of times in my life, but that night was  
one of them. I slammed the door, grabbed the 'few things' out of  
her hand and refused to let her out of the apartment.

My baby sister slapped me.

I will never forget it. I was standing there, I outweighed her by 100  
lbs, I _towered_ over her, and in a second, this tiny little woman  
was a ball of self-righteous fury who whipped her right hand back  
and slapped me for all I was worth.

It hurt my pride more than it hurt my face, but I couldn't believe  
she could pack that much whallop. And while I was rubbing my  
cheek, she got her things and walked out the door.

I tried calling her, at his place, but no one picked up the phone. I  
didn't bother to leave a message. I had to leave the next day. It  
was the first time I ever left town without telling her goodbye.

I started to hate Fox Mulder that day.

And the hatred grew. I couldn't stand the sight of him at Missy's  
funeral. He stood there, God help me, and actually held my mother  
as she cried. Son of a _bitch_! Like he was a member of the  
family. Like he wasn't the reason Missy was lying cold in that  
grave!

Like he belonged. And like I didn't.

Dana sort of half-assed forgave me for the fight way back when.  
But when I mentioned that I thought the time after the graveside  
service should be 'just family', she got all huffy with me. "Mulder  
needs to be there, otherwise he'll think we blame him."

I was about to tell her that I _did_ blame him, but Mom stepped up,  
dragging Mr. FBI behind her and told us that she was riding to the  
house with Fox and Dana and would I stop by the caretaker's office  
and tell them they could close the grave.

Sure, that was what I was there for. Making sure my little sister  
was covered with six feet of mud while the man who put her there  
was sitting in our house and eating our food.

I really hated him that day.

I didn't get over it, I just got away from it. I went back to Great  
Lakes and then to Newport News. I was really happy that I could  
get home a little more often, but then I was sent out on a cruise and  
I was gone for six months. When I got back, I found out what he'd  
done to us lately.

Dana had cancer. She was dying.

I still can't talk about it. I can see her, standing in that hospital  
room telling me how she could tell her partner about her illness, but  
not her brother. I can see her lying in that bed, _dying_, and  
holding that bastard's fucking hand like it was a teether to the  
earth. I can see her announcing that she was going to put that  
goddam chip in her neck, in so many words that she trusted _him_  
over her doctor, our priest . . . even me.

I hope the fucker dies tonight. I'll finally be done with him.

But if that happens, I'll still have to deal with Dana. That's OK, I  
know I can make her see that it's for the best.

I'm never too sure how to handle these hospital things. When Dana  
was out here last Christmas, and she found . . . that kid and she was  
talking all crazy and then the kid got sick . . . I mean, how the hell  
was I supposed to find her at the hospital. "Excuse me, have you  
seen a seemingly intelligent woman who is acting totally nuts and  
keeps saying she's the mother of a three year old she's never seen  
before in her life?" I didn't even know the damn kid's name at the  
time. Emily. Her name was Emily.

At least this time, I know who I'm looking for. I walk up to the  
first nurse I see and ask for directions to admissions. A nice, white  
haired lady at a desk tells me that Fox Mulder has been taken up to  
the surgical ward, and that family members can be found in the  
waiting room up there.

When did she become his 'family'?

I get directions and find the elevators and get to the right floor and  
then to the right wing and there she is.

God, I've never seen her look this bad.

Lost. And so damned tiny. Fragile. Covered in blood. God help  
me, if a speck of that is hers . . . But I can tell she's not hurt. Not  
physically, at least.

At least the fucker did something right. He protected her. She's  
safe. This time.

I walk down the hallway toward her. She isn't looking my way, her  
eyes are glued to a set of double doors with the words 'surgical  
suite' stenciled on them. I call out her name as I get closer and she  
still doesn't move, doesn't react at all. Finally, I'm right next to her  
and I put my hand on her shoulder.

"Dana?"

She looks up at me and for a moment, there's no recognition. She  
doesn't _know_ me! And then a light comes on in her head.

"Billy?"

She's up on her feet and she grabs me hangs on with everything in  
her. She's not crying, not yet at least. She's taking in deep gulps  
of air, and it scares me how much she's trembling in my arms.

"Here, let's sit down." I lower us both to the couch she was sitting  
on and pull her closer to me, so that her head is now resting on my  
shoulder. "It's OK, Danie, it's OK." I haven't called her that  
since, . . . gee, since we were kids. Since before I got all tough and  
couldn't be bothered with my kid sister and her stupid tagging  
along all the time. Not for a long time have I called her that. "It's  
going to be OK, Danie, I promise."

Finally, she sits back, and wipes her face on her sleeve. She leaves  
a streak of dried blood mixed with tears across her cheek and I itch  
to wipe it off, but I figure I'll just let her be for now.

"How did you know?"

That hurts. She's all but admitting that she wouldn't have told me.  
"Mom called. She said . . . that you were here. And you were  
upset."

She snorts beside me. "Mom, the great understatesman." I want to  
crack a smile at that, but it's not really that funny.

"How is he, uh, how's he doing?" I really don't give two shits how  
that little twerpy bastard is doing, but I promised Mom and I'll  
keep that promise.

She stares off at those shitty double doors again. Finally, she clears  
her throat. "He was shot in the chest. Close range. _Very_ close  
range. The exit wound . . ." She stops and swallows, hard and it  
hurts me to watch her struggle with this. I start to tell her that I  
don't need the play by play, but she's talking again and I realize  
she's not talking to me, she's talking to him.

"The exit wound was so big. He lost so much blood at the scene.  
For a minute, I was afraid it hit the aorta, but I could still find a  
pulse. It took forever for the ambulance to get there. He was just  
pumping blood out, he was bleeding to death in my arms. . ."

She takes a deep breath. "I threatened him. I told him that if he  
died on me, I'd curse his name till the day I died. I told him I'd spit  
on his grave, I'd never look for Samantha, I'd destroy his  
apartment and poison his fish. I told him I'd find Ed Jerse again  
and let him fuck my eyes out this time and the tattoo would read  
'fuck you, Fox Mulder' and I told him I'd quit the Bureau and I'd  
become a prostitute and die of AIDS or a drug overdose. I told  
him I'd do all of that if he left me."

God, I don't want to hear this. God in Heaven, I don't want to  
hear this. But she won't stop talking. And now she's laughing, but  
not in a happy way. She's laughing like a mad woman. Like some  
who has lost their mind. Laughing and talking through it all, but  
still staring at the door, still more to him than to me. "I think he  
must have heard me. His pressure dropped and the EMS guys had  
to defib in the van, but he hung on. I think the Jerse thing was what  
turned the trick. Have to remember that one."

"How long have you been here?" I have to get her to connect to  
_me_, to quit looking at the damned doors and see that she's not  
alone, that I'm here, too.

"I don't know. Three, four hours? Who the fuck knows?"

That took my breath away. I've never heard Dana curse like that  
before and the way she's doing it now it seems like second nature.

"It wasn't supposed to go bad. We were staking out the _least_  
likely spot. Neely wasn't supposed to be there, it was just a  
possiblity. A remote possiblity. But he was there, and we didn't  
have proper back up. We never have proper back up, do we,  
Mulder?"

She's letting go of my hand and standing, pacing in front of those  
doors. She won't quit staring at them and she's wringing her hands  
and I wonder if it's hurting her to do that as much as it's hurting me  
to watch.

And I hate that fucker even more for putting her through this. God,  
I hope, I really hope he dies on that table.

But I have to take care of her, now. No time for wishful thinking.  
"Have you had anything to eat?" I glance at my watch and it's  
already almost ten o'clock. If she's been here four hours, she  
probably didn't get dinner. I can find something, a vending  
machine or something.

"I'm not hungry." Her voice sounds hollow as she says it, like she  
doesn't even know what the question was, much less what she  
answered.

"How about some coffee?" I try again. This time she doesn't even  
bother to answer and I take that as a good sign. I go off to find  
some coffee.

Coffee is a lot easier to find when you know where the hell you're  
going. I got lost, not bad lost, but turned around. When I figure  
out where I am and where I'm supposed to be, there's some  
woman in hospital scrubs talking to Dana on the couch. Dana is  
nodding and her face is this . . . mask. She looks so impersonal, so  
cold. She's holding it all back in front of this woman. I know how  
much it took for her to let me see that earlier display. And I'm her  
brother.

I come up to them, quietly, not wanting to disturb them.

" . . .damage was extensive. But he made it through the surgery.  
He did flatline on us, but it wasn't for very long. The hypovolemia  
is the greatest concern. The lung capacity will be diminished, but  
with therapy, he should be able to recover. Right now, we just  
have to wait. And pray."

"May I see him?" Her face is strong, but her voice is betraying her.  
I can hear the tremor in her voice all the way from where I'm  
standing.

The scrubs woman is shaking her head. "Let us get him settled in  
ICU. I have you listed as next of kin, you'll have full priviledges to  
visit. I think it would be best to notify any other family members at  
this time." She reached out when she started talking and now she  
squeezes Dana's shoulder. Like you would a wife you'd just given  
bad news.

And the look on Dana's face. She's losing her whole world. That  
skinny, limp-wrist, pansy faced asshole is everything to my baby  
sister. Everything. And nothing or no one will ever replace him in  
her heart.

I can't breathe too well. My stomach is a knot and I think back to  
how many times tonight that I've wished that sorry son of a bitch  
dead. I didn't mean it, God. Really, I didn't. I just . . . _hate_ him  
sometimes and it's so much easier to just wish he was gone . . .

The woman leaves and Dana's just sitting there, staring into space.  
I walk up to her and offer her the coffee. She takes it on autopilot,  
swallows and frowns. "I don't take sugar," she says to me.

I almost laugh. No, that's right. Tara takes sugar. Dana takes . . .  
I realize I don't know how my baby sister takes her coffee. That  
really bothers me right now. What really eats me is that the asshole  
who's dying probably knows how she takes it.

"I'll get you another cup," I offer.

"No, that's OK, I'm not really thirsty, either. I just want . . ."

I know what she wants.

"I wish you'd try to get to know him, Billy," she says, her voice all  
low and raspy as she continues to stare at the doors and the walls  
and everywhere except my face. "He's not a bad guy, you know."

"I know," I say, automatically. So what if I don't mean it, she  
needs to hear it.

She impales me with her eyes. "Liar."

The way she says it, I feel cursed for all eternity. It makes me hurt.  
I feel ripped apart by her accusation. I want to hurt back a little.  
Damn me.

"OK, if he's so great, why the hell did he let you get in a position  
where you were getting shot at to begin with?"

She turns on me, pale. Ghostly white. And for a minute I'm afraid  
I've killed her with my words. But then I realize, she's just building  
up a head of steam.

"Fuck you," she seethes, quiet, through those perfect white teeth  
that once sported big shiney braces. She's walking down the hall  
almost before I can breath.

I can't let her run off this time. Not this time. I take two steps and  
reach out and grab her arm. "Dana, stop. Please."

She pulls her arm out of my grasp. "Go home, Bill. You're not  
wanted here. You're not needed here. Just go the hell home." She  
stomps off toward the hallway again, leaving me there, staring open  
mouthed after her.

"Why? Why do you love him more than me?" When I hear the  
words echoing off the white walls of the waiting room, I don't  
recognize my own voice. I know those were my thoughts, but I  
didn't think I had the guts . . . or the stupidity, to say them out  
loud.

She stops. She doesn't turn around right away. Her shoulders  
heave with the effort just to keep standing. When she finally turns  
toward me, there's a single tear sliding down her left cheek. I made  
her cry. Mom, Mom, Billy made Dana cry. I can hear Charlie  
chanting all the way from the park to our house. Billy made Dana  
cry.

"I don't . . . love him . . . more," she chokes out and I'm afraid to  
listen, afraid of what she's going to do to me now that she knows  
what is scaring me. I don't want to lose her to him. Not the last  
sister I have. Not to him. Not to that loser.

"I don't love him _more_ than you, Billy," she says, through  
clenched teeth. She stops and draws in enough breath for both of  
us.

"I love him _different_ than I love you."

I want to follow her. I want to go after her and catch up to her and  
pull her in my arms and tell her that I'm sorry, that I'm a bigger ass  
than Mulder could ever be, but all I can do is stand there. When I  
can't see her because she's turned the corner, I walk over to the  
couch, sit down, and cry like a baby.

I can't believe I fell asleep. A nurse comes over and shakes me  
awake and I don't remember where I am or what I'm doing here. I  
blink a few times, and then remember. Dana. Mulder. ICU.

It's not hard to find the Intensive Care Unit. It's marked on all the  
elevators. ICU, 6th floor. I'm now on the sixth floor. It's a little  
past one in the morning.

I've never been in an Intensive Care Unit. I've heard about them,  
but I've never seen one close up. It's odd. Quiet. Everyone looks  
so intense. Life and death all in about eight rooms. I start looking  
in the glass windows trying to find Dana. A nurse walks up to me  
and taps me on the shoulder.

"I'm sorry, sir, but only members of the immediate family are  
allowed here."

"I'm looking for Fox Mulder. Well, really, I'm looking for my  
sister, Dana Scully. She's with him. She's his, uh, next of kin."

"Mr. Mulder is in room 5. His wife is in there right now."

I blink at that. Wife? Nah, Mom would have said something.  
Wouldn't she? "Ah, that's probably my sister."

"Wait here." The nurse gives me a look as she makes a note on a  
pad of paper before going off to what I assume is room 5. She's in  
there a minute and then back at the desk. "I'm sorry. Mr. Mulder  
can only have one visitor at a time and your sister," she looks  
doubtful as she says it, "says she's going to stay the night. She said  
you're free to go home."

I don't want to go home. No, that's not true. I do want to go  
home, I want to run to Tara and have her make it all better. I want  
to rock Matty to sleep and fall asleep with him and have Tara kiss  
me awake and take me to bed with her. But I've hurt my baby  
sister and I can't go home. Not till I make it right.

I start to head off to the elevators, but I'm watching the nurse as  
she goes back to her charts. When I'm sure she's not looking, I  
make a dash for room number 5.

I feel like an idiot as I burst into the room. I shut the door behind  
me and wish it had a lock or something. Instead, I just lean against  
it.

I look at Mulder. He _is_ the center of attention here, after all.  
But God, I wish I hadn't looked. He's almost transparent. So pale  
that the sheets have more color than his face. His eyes are sunken  
in his cheeks and there's a tube coiling out of his mouth. I see a  
little black balloon and it fills and collapses in time to the rise and  
the fall of his chest. From what I can see under the covers, his  
entire left side is covered in gauze.

There are wires. So many wires. All over his chest, some around  
his head, too. More tubes than I could ever count. A bag of red  
stuff and two bags of clear stuff and tubes poked into his chest. A  
bag of yellow stuff hanging off the bed rail. I don't want to know  
where that tube leads. A bunch of machines encircle him, surround  
him. Beepings and bleepings and infinity signs on digital displays. I  
didn't know I'd been holding my breath until I start to feel dizzy.

"Go home, Bill. You're not -"

"Dana, shut up. I'm not leaving until I have my say." She stops,  
now it's her turn to open her mouth and gap at me.

I wish I had some idea of what the hell I'm going to say to her.

I look down and see her tiny hand, the hand that used to clutch  
mine so tightly, the hand that used to bring me cookies when I was  
sick, the hand that used to slap me high fives when she made a  
basket. It's entwined in the hand of the man in the bed, lying so  
still and so very, very quiet. In the depth of my soul, I see her for  
the first time in a very long time. See her sitting beside this man. I  
see their clasped hands, and I know this is where she belongs.

My heart breaks a little. I don't want to let go. I don't want to  
admit that any man could have a place in her heart, might even  
deserve to be there. But I know the truth now. I didn't stand a  
chance. If I don't change my ways fast, I'll never have a chance  
with her again.

"I promised Mom I would be here for you," I say, slowly, trying to  
find the words. "And on the way over, I'll admit, I didn't really  
give a shit if he . . . lived or died."

She purses her lips and I know I better speak fast because my  
chances are getting awful slim.

"But Dana, I know that was my own selfish pride. I hated Mulder,  
I used to hate Mulder, because I thought he was taking you from  
me. I thought he would only get you killed. And that scared me.  
God, Dana, I was so scared that my baby sister would die."

I'm having a hard time standing up and so I lean on the bed rail a  
minute.

"I know this is the path you've chosen. You choose it every day, I  
guess. Just like with Tara and me. Every day, I wake up, and I just  
want to be with her. I can understand that. I can see that. I can  
see how you'd feel that way."

Her eyes are softening up a bit. She's not looking at me as if she's  
looking at a monster anymore.

"He saved your life. I guess that really just sunk in to me. Back  
when you had the cancer, back when you lost . . . Emily, today, all  
those times in between . . . he's saved your life. He hasn't taken  
you away from me. He's kept you safe for me. As safe as you'd  
let him, anyway."

I get a smile for that one.

"Look, I'm going to go down to the chapel. I'm going to light a  
candle for him, say a few prayers. Then I'll be right in the waiting  
room. If you get tired, or need a break, I'll . . . sit with him for  
you. I'll make sure he's safe for you."

I'm not sure what I expect her to do, but as always, my baby sister  
does the unexpected. She gets up, not letting go of Mulder's hand  
and reaches out to me. She pulls me toward her, one handed, and  
wraps her free arm around my waist.

"I love you, Billy," she sighs into my shirt. "I always have and I  
always will."

"I love you, too, Danie," I tell her. I look over at the man who  
means more than the world to my sister. Maybe there is something  
there that's more than I've seen before.

"Who knows? With time, I might even love him," I say, and in  
some strange way, I really mean that.

"I've begun to believe in some extreme possibilities," she says and  
smiles at me.

I'm beginning to know what she means.

the end.

Vickie  



End file.
